


Half a Man

by bluefay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 12 Grimmauld Place, A lot - Freeform, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Silences, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, Ficlet, Hurt/Comfort, Like, M/M, Padfoot - Freeform, Past Relationship(s), Post-Sirius Black in Azkaban, Suicidal Thoughts, Wolfstar Hurt Fest 2020, lots of sighing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25288516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluefay/pseuds/bluefay
Summary: When drinking no longer solves Sirius' problems, he decides that turning into Padfoot is his only solution.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 27
Kudos: 78
Collections: Wolfstar Hurt Fest





	Half a Man

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to the wonderful Wolfstar Hurt Fest mods! You've all done such an incredible job!
> 
> Thank you to my incredible beta, A, who continues to help my writing along.
> 
> And lastly, R. Thank you so much for putting up with stories that I know will hurt your fluffy heart. I love you so much.

“God, Sirius. How the bloody hell did you get us into this mess? Seven days! Seven fucking days!”

Padfoot watched as Remus threw his hands up in exasperation, staring at him. Padfoot didn’t blame him, he supposed. Seven days ago, he had turned into his dog form and he had no intention of turning back. For years, he had carried a deep guilt, intertwined with sadness, and it had suddenly gotten to be far too much for him. Living hurt too much, and Padfoot provided some semblance of escapism.

However, Remus didn’t know that he was choosing to stay as Padfoot. He simply thought that Sirius was stuck.

Remus sighed.

Sirius looked up at him, blinking his stone grey eyes as a wave of panic and guilt sunk into his weary bones. The last thing he wanted was to put Remus out and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to turn back.

“You’ve been an animagus since you were fifteen. Twenty years, and this has never happened!” Remus yelled, his voice echoing off of the walls of 12 Grimmauld Place as he sank into the couch.

Sirius let out a small whine, his heart sinking as he watched Remus fume. He could count on his hand the number of times he had seen Remus get truly angry over the years. Usually, he became incredibly quiet when something was amiss, making this loud anger all the more terrifying.

Remus briefly closed his eyes as he ran a hand anxiously through his hair, something he had done since he was a child.

“I should probably take you out for a walk,” he sighed, looking at his wrist watch.

As soon as Remus stood up, Sirius followed, his tail tucked in between his back legs as they headed towards the front door.

The air was crisp and cool. Crimson, merigold, and amber-colored leaves dusted the front garden. A gentle wind rustled the remaining leaves on the oak tree that sat next to the pathway. Sirius paused, smelling the changing of the season.

Remus led the way, wandering towards the field of golden straw next to the house. The sky was deep charcoal in color, the clouds drifting in the wind threatening to unleash a heavy downpour.

Remus picked up a stick, waving it at Padfoot. Ordinarily, fetching sticks was one of his favorite things to do as Padfoot. Now, however, he couldn’t find the energy within himself to become excited. Instead, he just wanted to lie down.

Padfoot let out a long breath, staring at Remus. He looked more tired than usual, exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes and there was an emptiness to his face. Padfoot couldn’t help but feel as though he was behind it.

He knew perfectly well that he had been challenging as Sirius. Azkaban had dramatically changed him, making him difficult to handle. While he had always been impulsive, he now found himself erratic, wanting to take risks just to feel something. Remus had constantly watched over him, making sure that he did nothing to harm himself or anyone else. In the process, he had ended up wearing himself out. Sirius had been able to see it, watching the change occur in him as the years passed.

To drown out the knowledge that he was dragging Remus down, he drank. A lot. Every night, a new bottle of cheap wine, along with several mixed tequila drinks, would disappear, and Remus would carry him to bed. The alcohol helped, to some degree, softening the hurt around the edges.

Luckily, Padfoot didn’t seem to experience withdrawals, another reason to not change back.

Remus tossed the stick. Padfoot watched as it coasted in the air and then dipped back down to the ground, rustling the straw. He turned and saw Remus looking expectantly at him.

“Well, are you going to go get it?” Remus asked, hands on his hips.

Padfoot slowly walked towards the stick, gently picking it up in his mouth. He hated to disappoint Remus.

When he returned the stick to Remus’ feet, Remus frowned.

“You’ve been off ever since you turned. What’s going on, Pads?” he asked.

Padfoot just sighed, curling into a spot on the ground. There was a part of him that was so tempted to tell Remus that he no longer wanted to live - that it was too much. However, he had decided before turning into Padfoot that he wasn’t going to say anything, as Remus couldn’t possibly understand. He hadn’t been wrongly sentenced to Azkaban for the murder of his friends, spent twelve years rotting away, or believed to be a mass murderer while on the run. Nor had he had to deal with the fact that the love of his life had thought him guilty for years.

“I don’t know how the fuck we’re going to turn you back,” Remus sighed, sitting on the ground next to Padfoot.

Padfoot blinked, not knowing how to react. The only way he could tell Remus that he didn’t want to change back was to, indeed, change back.

They sat in silence, watching the afternoon storm roll in. The air was heavy with the smell of rain and thunder cracked in the distance. Padfoot rested his chin on the ground, closing his eyes. He could hear crows talking to each other in the pine trees behind them, their voices echoing across the field.

Remus laid down, putting his hands behind his head.

Padfoot looked up at the sky, wishing he could fix all that was broken.

* * *

Several days passed, Monday dissolving into Wednesday, and nothing changed. Remus was still in an angry, foul mood and Sirius remained as Padfoot. While Remus paced about Grimmauld Place, grumbling about how Sirius had fucked up, Padfoot slinked into shadowy corners, wishing to disappear altogether.

That morning, as Remus went about brewing coffee in the kitchen, Padfoot tucked himself away on the couch in the sitting room. Across from him, a flickering fire blazed in the hearth, radiating much needed warmth. The windows on either side of the hearth were fogging up, and heavy raindrops rolled down them.

Suddenly, he remembered.

As children, he and Regulus had always raced raindrops. They would kneel underneath the windows and pick a raindrop, both of them taking plenty of time to debate which droplet would be the best. Then, they would race, urging their raindrops to reach the bottom of the window first.

Regulus. Someone he hadn’t been able to save.

Padfoot closed his eyes, flashes of Regulus crossing his mind. During their childhood, he had been the kid his parents had always wanted, while Sirius had been the outcast. Then, things changed. At eighteen, his brother had died at the hands of Death Eaters. Sirius missed him terribly.

“Pads, breakfast,” Remus called from the kitchen, interrupting Padfoot’s flood of memories.

Slowly, he hopped off the couch and wandered into the kitchen. Remus was sitting at the table, steaming coffee in one hand and “The Daily Prophet” in the other. His light brown hair laid in wild waves and Padfoot wondered if he had even bothered to brush it.

On the ground, next to Remus’ chair, sat a bowl full of dry kibble. Padfoot grimaced, much preferring actual meat to kibble. Nevertheless, he began to eat.

Suddenly, Remus put down the newspaper and turned to look at Padfoot, his eyes hard. “Sirius, are you purposefully staying as Padfoot?”

Surprised, Padfoot let out a whine.

“Fuck, Sirius. I can’t believe I thought you weren’t choosing this,” Remus said, his voice harsh.

For several awkward moments, the room was quiet. Staring absently into his coffee, it was Remus who broke the silence.

“I miss you, Sirius. I love you as Padfoot, but I miss you. I miss your voice,” he said.

Padfoot quirked his head, watching Remus as his eyes began to water. Hesitantly, he wandered to Remus, resting his head on his lap. Remus sighed, his fingers scratching the fur behind Padfoot’s ear.

“I need you, Sirius,” Remus whispered, his voice breaking.

Remus’ words tugged on his heart. Suddenly, he knew what he needed to do.

He changed, his fur disappearing, his body elongating, and his ears shrinking. After a moment, Sirius was back in his human form. His body felt odd, stretched, and uncomfortable compared to Padfoot’s.

“Remus,” Sirius muttered, sitting next to him at the table. Remus looked up, tears staining his cheeks.

“Hi.”

“Come here,” Sirius said, holding his arms open.

Remus scooted his chair closer and leaned into Sirius’ arms, his head resting on his chest. Sirius held him close, running his hand through his hair.

“I missed you so much, Sirius,” Remus said quietly. “Why’d you change into Padfoot?”

Sirius sighed. “It’s complicated.”

Remus looked up, blinking. “I can handle complicated.”

Tears flowed down Sirius’ cheeks, and he wiped them with the back of his sleeve.

“I don’t want to live anymore,” he whispered.

Remus sat up, his eyebrows knitted together. “What do you mean you don’t want to live?”

“I’m tired, Remus. All the time. Everyday is difficult. I just don’t want to be here anymore. It hurts too much.”

“You’re suicidal? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Lots of reasons. I guess I was worried you wouldn’t understand.”

Remus sighed. “Oh, Sirius. I understand and I’m not judging you for it. You’ve gone through shit that most people can’t imagine.”

“I don’t know, Remus.”

“I know you don’t, but I do. Trust me,” Remus said, taking hold of Sirius’ hand - something they hadn’t done for fifteen years.

“I’m just not sure if I’m up for trying anymore. I feel like half a man,” Sirius shrugged, his gaze dropping to the tabletop.

Suddenly, Remus was tilting Sirius’ chin upwards. His eyes had softened, a look of sincerity in them.

“Don’t leave. Please. Keep trying for me,” Remus whispered. “I know we haven’t talked about our relationship since you escaped, but I never stopped loving you. Every time you walk into a room, my heart speeds up. I went twelve years without you. I’m not ready to go a lifetime.”

BeforeSirius knew it, he was sobbing. Remus held him as he gasped for breath, growing lightheaded.

“I-I love you t-too, Remus,” Sirius choked out, tucking his head into the cook of Remus’ neck.

“It’s going to be okay, love. I don’t know when this feeling will go away, or if it ever will. But what matters is that we’re fighting it together. I’m not going anywhere,” Remus said.

Sirius nodded. “Can I … can I kiss you?”

Without answering, Remus pressed their lips together. Sirius sank into the warmth of Remus’ chapped lips, tangling his hand in the hair at the nape of his neck. Remus’ hand cupped his cheek, his touch sending a shiver down his spine. Sirius sighed, feeling at home for the first time in fifteen years


End file.
